The Elementary Years
by hiddendreamer67
Summary: Kid!lock.When Sherlock is born, Mycroft isn't sure how he should react. Yet as time goes on, he documents growing up with Sherlock as their family suffers through the ups and downs we call life. Can Mycroft succeed at the hardest task of all: being a brother? Is it Mycroft's fault Sherlock ended up a high functioning sociopath? No matter what happens, nothing is ever 'elementary'.
1. Sherlock- age 0

Sherlock- age 0

"Myc?" A woman called out softly, seeing the little 7-year-old poking his head around the wall.

"Yes mummy?" Mycroft asked, stepping out from his poor hiding place. She gave him a warm smile as only a mother could.

"Come and meet your new baby brother." She may have said it sweetly, but no one in the room would doubt that he had no say in the matter. Yet it was obvious he would have come anyways, given the curious glint that was in his eyes. So, he slowly approached his mother as she looked at this baby like it was the most precious thing in the world. The way Mycroft knew she used to look at him.

The folds of the blanket kept him from observing from afar, but now Myc could get a proper look at this new child in his mothers' arms. The baby had a tiny bit of curly black hair atop his head, and his blue eyes held a curious glint that could rival Mycroft's own.

"What do you think?" She asked, smiling down at her first born. Mycroft thought carefully about that. He had planned on hating this kid. After all, Mycroft didn't see why they needed another child when he was perfectly fine on his own. Still, even he had to admit it got rather lonely all by himself. Perhaps this baby wouldn't be so bad after all. So far it wasn't doing any of that useless crying he despised so much.

"He's wonderful." He said, if only to please mummy. This did the trick though, as her face beamed with pride at both of her sons. "What's his name?"

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes." His father said proudly, speaking for the first time since Mycroft entered the room. He laid a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder, and she looked up at him happily before the two shared a quick kiss. Mycroft diverted his eyes, not enjoying displays of affection.

Then Mrs. Holmes looked back at the newborn, nearly tearing up with happiness. "My sweet Sherlock." Mycroft fought hard to keep from making a face. To him, 'My little Mikey' was a better title, but he supposed Sherlock had to get _something._

"I thought we agreed to call him William." Mr. Holmes said quietly. He was still smiling, but it seemed sort of forced.

"Do you really want to do this now?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him before glancing at her two children. He shook his head.

"Of course not, darling." He put another reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're absolutely right." Yet he looked like he still disagreed. Mycroft sighed. Mummy and daddy had been stressed for a while now like this.


	2. Sherlock- age 1

Sherlock: age 1

"Mummy?" Mycroft asked, entering his mother's office. She looked up from her paperwork, a picture of exhaustion. Mycroft knew she had made a poor decision trying to keep her job while being a stay at home mother, as father had agreed. But sometimes she was just stubborn that way. "Would you like to start our lesson now?"

"Lesson?" She was still waking up. "Oh!" Her eyes lit up. "Yes, of course. Now, what were we last working on?"

"Latin." Mycroft said with a smile, always ready to impress her. "And I have been doing very well in my practices. Yesterday I was able to translate an entire paragraph!"

"Well done Myc!" She gave him her motherly smile and rustled his hair before pulling him into a hug. Personally he didn't see the point of human interaction like this, but if it made Mother happy it was allowed to continue. "I'm so proud of you. Now, let's see it then."

Mycroft pulled out his papers from yesterday. But before his mother could read the carefully translated sentences, a faint crying could be heard down the hall.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Holmes sighed. She set down the paragraph on top of her cluttered desk. "That's probably your brother." Mycroft didn't understand why grown-ups liked to phrase such things as if they were not absolute. Of course it was sherlock! Who else would it be? "He probably just woke up from his nap." Again, obvious. "Sweetie, do you mind if I just go see what he needs?"

"Of course not." Mycroft said, frowning behind her back. After all, Sherlock always got to have the attention first. It was just the way of the world when there was a newborn in the house.

"I promise to read it later!" She called over her shoulder, heading down to the nursery.

_No, you're going to lose it in your cluttered desk pile, and once again forget to read it. _He thought to himself. Not angrily, just as a fact of life. Instead, he retreated back into his room to read a book.

After about an hour of reading, he heard the front door slam downstairs. Ah, father was once again home. He put down the book and walked down the stairs to greet him, just as he likes.

"Ah, hello Mycroft." He ruffled his hair, as everyone seems to enjoy doing to children even if it later causes trouble as they attempt to brush their hair. "Where is your mother?"

"Mummy is still busy with Sherlock." Mikey informed him.

"Too busy to greet her husband?" He said in a joking matter, but Mycroft heard the undertone of irritation. Myc understood his want of order, but the reason for this being such an issue illuded the young boy. "Well, i'll just go greet her then." He gave his son a grin. "How about you go back to those books of yours?"

"Yes father." he said, going back up to his room. However, what his parents did not know was a vent connected his room to the nursery below him, and he listened in as he pretended to read. He had already predicted the ending, anyways.

"You're awfully busy." He heard father say.

"Well, it can be that way when you have a job and children to take care of." She said quietly. "But I guess you wouldn't know about that."

"We've talked about this." He replied. "It was fine with just Mycroft, but now you're wearing yourself out."

"I'm not giving up my job." She said, sounding angry.

"What, so you're going to ignore the children?" Now father sounded angry. Mycroft heard a slight cry come from Sherlock, and could just picture Mummy rocking him back and forth to quiet him down. Stupid little brothers, not understanding when to be quiet and listen to the important things.

"They need you." Father sounded slightly like he was pleading. Which was ridiculous, because Mycroft's' father was never a begging man.

"We'll discuss this later." Mother said, signifying the conversation was over.


	3. Sherlock- age 2

Sherlock: age 2

"Mother, I made you a painting." Mycroft said, handing her the masterpiece he had created for the art portion of their lesson. Personally he didn't see the need for such things, but with all the free time Mummy had without her job she found the need to add on all sorts of lessons.

"Well done Mycroft!." She said, taking a good look at his incredibly detailed portrait of the rare Strongylodon macrobotrys, commonly known as Jade Vine.

"Mummy, loo e'!" Sherlock said, finally to the point where he could make terrible attempts at sentences. He held up his painting, which was truly just a few smears of blue paint.

"Oh, wonderful my sweet Sherlock!" Mother said, giving him just as much praise. Even though he didn't technically have any lessons yet, and he hadn't put as much work into his 'project'.

"Why does Sherlock get praised for such little work?" Mycroft looked in contempt at the picture as he spoke to his mother. Sherlock had been put down for a nap. "It's just some blue paint!"

"Oh Mycroft." She sighed as if she was disappointed. "You must understand that Sherlock is younger than you. We can't expect him to give us the same amount of quality as we get from you. Besides, praise is good for his self-esteem."

"I don't think Sherlocks' ego needs boosting." Mycroft rolled his eyes. Even at the age of two Sherlock was quite the little diva. He knew that being young allowed him to be the most important, and he expected everyone else followed this rule of thumb.

"You're not wrong." She gave a little laugh. "I forgot how terrible the twos can be. They don't say 'the terrible twos' for nothing. Yet I wouldn't know that because you were perfect angel." She planted a kiss on his cheek, which he only wiped away when she wasn't looking.

"Oh, I quite agree." Father said, sauntering into the room. He picked up his son and smiled. "You are certainly quite the role model." Suddenly he frowned, looking at the paintings. "What is that?"

"That's my art project." Mycroft said, slightly pleased his was the one that held his father's attention.

"Hmm." He looked at his mother, sounding displeased. He put on that fake smile. "Well, we're off." Today was Sunday, and that meant Father and Mycroft went into town together.

"Goodbye my lovelies!" She said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He supposed he should have found it strange that she didn't kiss his father, but actually that seemed normal. His parents just weren't the kind of parents that kiss each other anymore. It simply wasn't done, and that was perfectly fine to him.

"Alright." Mr. Holmes said, setting his son down to pick up an umbrella. Several were always kept by the front door. "Let's be off." He did this every time they went into town.

"Why do you always bring an umbrella?" Mycroft finally asked the question he thought of every car ride out of the mansion grounds.

"Rain is a fickle thing." Father gave him a smile. "You always want to bring an umbrella with you." Mycroft nodded, as his father was always correct.

….

Later, when they arrived home again, it had begun to rain.

"See?" Mr. Holmes opened his umbrella as he and Mycroft walked under it into the house.

"Yes Father." Mycroft smiled. He made a mental point to get an umbrella of his very own.

"Hello honey." Mrs. Holmes greeted them as she chased Sherlock down the stairs.

"Daddy!" Sherlock yelled, coming up to his daddy.

"Father." He corrected, picking Sherlock up and smiling.

"Wow." She raised an eyebrow at her husband. "Was that really necessary?"

"Speaking of which, was the painting upstairs necessary?" He countered, dodging the question. "I mean, painting is useless enough. But why did you have him paint a flower?"

"Painting helps revive the soul and assists the mind in viewing different outlooks." She argued.

"We're not raising a bunch of hippies!" He whispered, trying to keep their eldest from overhearing. Mycroft thought about that. Did his painting truly make his father look down upon him so?

"Dinner has been prepared." She glanced at Mycroft, trying to signal that this could wait.


	4. Sherlock- age 3

Sherlock: age 3

"Mycroft, go play with your brother." Mrs. Holmes said, trying to make up lesson plans for both boys.

"Yes Mother." He said, getting up to join Sherlock on the floor. It seemed trying to homeschool both of them was tiring her out almost as much as her job had.

"No!" Sherlock yelled, giggling, as he ran out of the door. Mycroft gave his mother a look of annoyance, but she didn't even look up. Sherlock can get himself into a lot of trouble if left alone, so it wasn't like he had any choice.

Mycroft sprinted after him. At one point he lost track of sherlock around a corner, but he found him asleep under the stairs. After dragging him into his bed, he retired back in his own room.

"Hey Mikey." His father knocked on his open door before entering. He smelled faintly of his favorite wine, just as always. "Have you done your homework yet?"

"I didn't have any." He shrugged. "Sherlock either." he turned back to his book, _To Kill A Mockingbird. _Although he didn't really see the appeal.

"You didn't?" Father looked surprised.

"Mother was busy." He glanced back at the man in his doorway, catching his father's undertone of disapproval. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"No,no!" He assured him. "I just thought that with all the hours she has to herself, she could manage such a task." It was almost as if he was now talking to himself instead of his son. "Anyways, just came in to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine." Mycroft said, though he personally guessed that at that moment he could have said his nose was broken and his father wouldn't have noticed.

"Good, good." He replied, sounding distracted. "Where's your mother?"

"I think in her study." Mycroft answered. Mr. Holmes got up without another word. Mycroft waited five minutes before sneaking down to listen to his parent's conversation.

"...just seem stressed." He heard his fathers' voice.

"Well, I am!" His mother sounded angry. "And you're no help!"

"Me?" He sounded offended. "How is this my fault?"

"You're gone at all odd hours of the day for your work, and when you come back you're always at least half drunk!" She stated. Mycroft was stunned at this news. He knew his father drank wine often, but he never considered him an alcoholic.

"Is that what this is about?" He said sarcastically. "Your obsession over the evil of a sip of wine?"

"I want you to quit." She said, sounding serious but nervous.

"What?!" He sounded shocked and slightly angry. "I mean, I love you, but…"

"Please." Now his mother was pleading. There was a long silence.

"Alright." His father gave in. "I love you, and I would do anything for you."

"I know." She said softly, not sounding affectionate. Mycroft quickly returned to his room before his parents knew what he had heard.


	5. Sherlock- age 4

Sherlock: age 4

"Now Sherlock, can you recite the planets?" Mummy said, leaning down to look her four-year-old in the face. "I know you've been practicing."

Mycroft scoffed. Everyone knew- Sherlock wouldn't stop reciting planets all day. Mycroft personally thought the essay he was working on about the current economic status of Uganda was far more important, but Sherlock hadn't yet finished his basic astronomy unit like Myc had.

"Yes Mummy!" Sherlock said gleefully. He took a deep breath. "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn…" He was starting to run out of steam, so he took another breath. "Uranus, Neptune, Pluto!" He grinned at his mother.

"Pluto is not technically a planet." Mycroft muttered to himself, but no one cares about technicalities when teaching a child.

"Well done Sherlock!" Mummy praised, handing him a certificate she had made stating he had passed his level 1 Astronomy test. She pulled him in for a hug which he tried to wriggle out of. "I'm so proud of you."

"G'off!" Sherlock's' voice was muffled. He pushed her away.

"Sherlock." I let out a warning tone. He didn't seem to understand that parents automatically gained respect. Same with older brothers. But he merely stuck his tongue out at me and dashed out.

My mother left out a sad sigh, and turned around to look at her eldest.

"Could you please go check on him?" She begged. Mycroft nodded, although not understanding why she didn't go after him. He always remembered Mother coming to find him when he was upset. Except for recently, when he could sulk right past her and she wouldn't notice.

"Hey Sherlock." Mycroft said, entering his little brothers' room. He watched as Sherlock proudly taped the certificate up on his wall. Sherlock smiled at his brother.

"Look it!" Sherlock said, pulling his brother over to his wall of 'awards'.

"Yes, I see." He glanced at them, remembering when he himself used to prize such papers from his mother. Now he knew they were worthless, but kept some of them on the wall for sentimentality. ""Well done."

"thanks Myc." Sherlock smiled at him. "So…" Mycroft knew what was coming. Sherlock always seemed to have one thing on his mind. "Can we play now?" Mycroft shook his head.

"I have lessons." Myc replied, effectively wiping Sherlock's grin away. "As do you, so we really should get back."

"You're no fun." Sherlock groaned, storming past his brother back to his mothers' study.

…

"Now can we play?" Sherlock sighed, entering Mycroft's room. Mycroft looked up from his book at Sherlock's puppy dog eyes.

"Oh, alright." Mycroft sighed. "What do you want to play?"

"Pirates!" Sherlock said gleefully, pulling out his two play swords. Mycroft knew this was coming, but he had been informed by his parents that occasionally playing with his brother was essential.

"Arg!" Mycroft said, putting on the eyepatch that was kept on his desk for just this occasion.

"I am the dreaded pirate Sherlock!" Sherlock raced out the door. "Catch me if ye dare!"

"Come back you scallywag!" Mycroft yelled, smiling as he ran after him. Sherlock was laughing his head off and shouting pirate phrases at his brother, but soon off Mycroft found himself huffing and puffing.

That's when sherlock heard a thump downstairs. "Father's home!" He said gleefully, rushing down to greet him.

"Hello Sherlock." His father said as he entered the house.

"Father, guess what!" Sherlock announced, not even pausing to let him guess. "I passed my Astronomy test today!"

"Astronomy?" He furrowed his eyebrows, but Sherlock didn't notice as he tugged his father up to his bedroom.

"I had to recite the planets, want to hear?" sherlock didn't need an answer. "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune, Uranus, Pluto. See? I can do it easily!" By then they had reached the room. "Look! There is my certificate that I earned."

"Yes, I see." He frowned and didn't sound impressed.

"Hello father." Mycroft said, still slightly out of breath.

"What are you wearing?" His father sounded disappointed. Mycroft quickly removed the eyepatch.

"We're pirates." Sherlock explained, holding up the clothing hanger he was using as a hook.

"Where is your mother?" He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"In the living room." Mycroft answered, not meeting his father's' eyes. He was disappointed in himself for looking like this in front of his father.

"I shouldn't have to deal with this stuff." Both children heard Mr. Holmes say as he left. Sherlock looked confused and hurt at the lack of praise. He had done well… hadn't he? He looked to Mycroft for explanation, but Myc had none.

After a few minutes, Mycroft followed his father to the living room, where he strained to listen to his parents.

"Why are my sons playing dress up?" He heard his father's voice.

"you mean pirates?" Mom said irritably. "Perhaps to do something crazy in this house and have fun."

"Fun does not equal success." Father lectured. Mycroft nodded in agreement. He would have to limit playtime if he wanted to be as successful as his father was. A proud, dedicated businessman. Sherlock snuck up behind to join him.

"Myc?" He asked, looking confused.

"Shh!" Mycroft put a finger to his lips. Sherlock's eyes widened in realization and he nodded.

"I'm not raising my children like robots!" Mother said.

"Are you sure?." Father scoffed. "filling their heads with useless facts. Who cares what order the planets are in? it doesn't matter." Sherlock looked hurt at this, but Mycroft didn't have any sympathy for him. Father was correct- it was useless information. "You're not a teacher. We need a real instructor."

"So, what?" Mother sounded irritated.

"I think we should hire a tutor." This information confused Mycroft. Was it his fault they needed a tutor? Someone to watch Sherlock would be nice, but… wait, where'd Sherlock go?

Mycroft let out an annoyed groan and went in search for his brother. However, Sherlock hadn't ran off to cause trouble. Myc found him in his bedroom, his back turned to the door as he sat at his desk working on his multiplication tables. The astronomy certificate had been ripped from the wall.


	6. Sherlock- age 5

Sherlock- age 5

The doorbell rang, echoing throughout the lonely halls of the Holmes's residence.

"He's here!" Mrs. Holmes said excitedly, almost rushing to the door. After much searching, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes had together decided on a competent tutor they could agree on. Mycroft sighed and set down his book to go and fetch Sherlock.

"Sherlock, the tutor is here." He stuck his head in the younger brother's room.

"I know that, Myc." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid." Mycroft rolled his own eyes, forgetting that clearly five-year-olds know everything. Sherlock walked past his brother to join his Mummy in the front hall. Sherlock might have been trying to act cool like his older brother, but Mycroft knew how excited Sherlock was about having a tutor. He wouldn't shut up about it for weeks, and he hadn't even met the man yet.

"Hello!" Mrs. Holmes said, answering the door herself. "You must be Mr. Samuels." Mr. Samuels was a well-dressed man in casual attire, clean shaven with wired rim glasses. His face was a cheery one, and he had a briefcase with the initials _J.S. _in gold lettering on the front. Mycroft already knew he did not like him.

"And you must be the charming Mrs. Holmes." Mr. Samuel said, bending to kiss the back of her hand. She let out a surprised giggle, before allowing him to come in.

"This is…" She gestured to her youngest, only to be interrupted.

"Hi!" Sherlock stuck his hand out. "I'm Sherlock. Do you know everything?" That was indeed what his mother had told him about tutors. Mr. Samuel laughed.

"Well, almost." He admitted, shaking the eager child's hand. He turned his attention to the eldest.

"And you must be the young Mycroft Holmes." He stuck out his hand to Mycroft. "Your mother has told me great things about you." Myc found that doubtful, considering Sherlock was mothers' favorite.

"Pleasure." Mycroft said flatly, taking the hand and giving him a polite smile.

"Well, we better get started!" Mr. Samuel said, shifting his case between hands. "Sherlock, how about we start with you?"

"Yes!" Sherlock said, taking his free hand and already leading him down the hall towards his room. "I'm really good at lessons. Mummy says I could be anything I wish when I grow up."

"Oh?" Mr. Samuel said, sounding interested. "And what do you want to be?"

"I'm gonna be a pirate." Sherlock said, completely serious. Mycroft gave a huff of annoyance.

"He seems nice." Mrs. Holmes smiled, but her smile seemed happier than it had been in years. …..

"So, Mycroft." Mr. Samuel gave him a smile as the 12 year old sat across from him a little while later. "You're twelve, correct?"

"Yes." Mycroft responded.

"A growing young man." Mr. Samuel said, beaming as if this was some form of achievement and not the effects of time. He leaned a little on the desk between them, getting closer to him. "Do you like being a big brother?"

"I suppose so." Mycroft was confused. He thought he was supposed to say yes, but what difference did it make? It wouldn't change the fact he was a big brother whether he wanted it or not. And what could this possibly have to do with lessons?

"Good, good." Mr. Samuel nodded. "Now, what lessons do you enjoy? It's good for me to know how you learn best."

"I'm fine with independent study." Mycroft assured him. "Mother often taught me her core lessons, and asked that I chose a topic of my own to study as well. Currently I have been learning about the effectiveness of the feudal system in Japan as opposed to the feudal system used in Middle Aged Europe. Next I planned to study currencies used throughout the globe."

"My, you certainly seem to have a set plan." Mr. Samuel gave a small laugh. Mycroft nodded.

"I plan to be a politician and follow in my father's footsteps." Mycroft said it as though it was rehearsed a hundred times. That had and always was the plan for his future, as set out by the elder Mr. Holmes himself. Mr. Samuel gave a small frown.

"Mycroft." He seemed ready to give a lecture. "You're only twelve. You have a long life ahead of you and don't need to decide your future already! Slow down; take time to smell the roses."

"One study has shown having a set plan for the future at an early age can lead to a more beneficial and profitable lifestyle." Mycroft informed him.

"You can't believe everything you read on the internet." Mr. Samuel reminded him, not knowing Mycroft had done the study himself. "And as I was telling your brother, you can be anything you want to be."

"I _want_ to be a politician and follow in my father's footsteps." Mycroft corrected. Mr. Samuel just shook his head.

…..

"Your sons are incredibly intelligent." Mycroft heard Mr. Samuel praise as he eavesdropped on him and his mother after the lessons of the day were over. Sherlock was down for a nap, so he didn't have to worry about being tattled on by annoying little brothers.

"Thank you, James." She said kindly. James? Mycroft made a face. Since when was Mr. Samuels on a first name basis with his mother? Perhaps it was because they were adults. However, he would always be 'Mr. Samuels' to Mycroft. Nothing more.

"In fact, I've realized that Sherlock is quite the musical prodigy." Mr. Samuel continued. "Does he play an instrument?"

"Not really, no." Mrs. Holmes replied. "What would you suggest?"

"He seems like the type who could play the violin." He explained. "I would look into it. I double as a violin teacher myself. Here, I know a wonderful young lady who can help you get started…" Mycroft heard a soft scrapping sound as a name was written down.

"I'm not surprised, actually." Mother sounded happy. "Sherlock has always had his own rhythm about him." Both adults laughed, while Mycroft rolled his eyes. What did that even mean?!

"Now, about Mycroft." Mr. Samuel seemed to become more serious, and Mycroft had to lean in to hear well. "He seems like a smart young lad, but he is very …. Creatively stifled." Mycroft scoffed. As if creativity was a high priority in his life. His mother, on the other hand, sounded worried.

"Oh dear." She replied. "What's wrong?"

"I think he doesn't truly know how to express himself." Mr. Samuel sighed. "Sometimes the truly intelligent kids like to retreat inside themselves because they're taught to do their best school work, but this can damage their social skills." Mycroft had never heard of anything so ridiculous. Sherlock was the one with no social skills. Yet his dear mummy soaked in every word.

"What can we do for poor Mikey?" She said, sounding like she could cry.

"Don't you worry." Mr. Samuel assured her, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I have a few ideas on how to stimulate his creative instincts, and if that doesn't work I can recommend a few specialists."

"Thank goodness you're here." Mrs. Holmes sighed. "I didn't even know!"

"Know what?" Mr. Holmes called, entering the room from the far side. Mycroft made a quick dash back to the library before he could get caught.

Then he pondered this for a moment. Did all children need to eavesdrop to learn what's going on with the important family matters? He didn't recall things being like this before Sherlock, but it was hard to remember anything before Sherlock. Were they a happy family then? Were they ever truly happy? Perhaps he should look further into the psychological aspects of family ties.

What were normal children like? Were children supposed to be more like Sherlock? If that was the case, he certainly didn't have any interest in becoming 'normal'.


End file.
